March 21; My Infliction Realized

Every so often you get one of those moments where you just stop and realize that your life is not a pile of gos se but rather things are quite excellent.

This weekend is a fantastic example of that. My father picked me up at Fleming College on possibly one of the best days – weather wise – that the town of Lindsay has experienced in months. I am saying winter is not beautiful in its own way, but after a few REALLY cold weeks, it is nice to have the sun shining and a light breeze blowing between the Scots pines.

When I got home, I played some basket-ball and settled in for the evening. The next morning I got up with my mother and we went off to work. I had a job interview with Human Wildlife Control at 9:30am which I was both looking forward to and, in a way, dreading. I realized a little too late that I might not meet some of the qualifications.

In the words of the interviewer, I “nailed it” and I am going to call him mid-April to see if he needs me. It felt as if he was telling me that I had the job as long as there was a need for another person on the crew. In my mind, that is a mission accomplished.

That evening my father and I watched a really bad Japanese monster, had a good hardy laugh, and went to bed refreshed. Rarely do I get that these hectic days at school. Usually my thoughts are too enraptured in assignments and tests to feel much peace. It is as if my eyelids close from exhaustion rather than a will to have a good night’s rest.

Saturday I woke up tired but excited. I had the feeling that despite the tranquil process of going to bed, my sleep was packed full of dreams. I do have a fleeting recollection of my mother, in the dream, mentioning my shoes were too effeminate and that my ribs were enlarging underneath my skin; stretching it to the point of tearing. The excitement was around seeing my friends, Kyle and Matt, after a brief but acknowledgeable absence. It may have only been two weeks, but I already felt like I was losing touch with them. Also, I was looking forward to giving Matt a CD for his birthday – “Read Music, Speak Spanish”.

Kyle came around 3:20pm; we quickly picked up some isopropyl alcohol (for my beasties) and then played 7 solid games of pool. To my surprise, I am played well. I always thought I was insufficiently talented for a guy whose parent’s OWNED a pool table. My brother, his girlfriend and two friends joined my parents, Kyle and I for dinner. We mowed down on sausages and salad for dinner, my parents left for a concert and then we ‘kids’ played Cranium WOW. The game is quite tricky but it was a lot of fun.

Matt popped by around 8:00pm. More pool was played and fun was had. Something about Kyle and Matt – even friends in general – make me so happy inside. I am sure that sounds kind of silly, and rather perverse, but that is what I feel. There is this swell of “goodness” that has the most enjoyable sensation ever.

I am going to stop there before I say something really disgusting.

I am truly lucky to have these people: Emily (x3), Matt, Kyle, Amy, Meg (x3), Karen, Jason (x2), Andrea and Brett. Sometimes I am really naïve about it, but recently I have realized that these are the people that make my life matter. It is not school. It is not good grades. It is not even following the rules and being a model citizen. It is my friends.

Why did I see this earlier?


- Jeffrey


(image courtesy of MindStep ©2008)

March 17th; Decisions, Decision, Decisions...

I am having some difficulty deciding – am I am helpful fellow or am I a smart-ass?

Here are the facts in the issue:
1. Whenever someone is studying something out loud, I am extremely tempted to get involved.
2. I like sharing my opinion.
3. I learn through trial and error.
4. When possible, I will ask others about what they think the answer is and gauge it with my own.
5. I study a good three hours a day.
6. I had my little way; I would eat peaches every day.

The honest truth is that I do not intend for it to be malicious. People have learned that I am well-informed and usually have the correct answer. I enjoy the attention and the respect. Is it really wrong for me to feel good about that?

I have been taught from a young age that it is good to share your talents. I feel there is not much more to share than my dedication to my program. I am a pretty boring guy aside from my scholastic capabilities. Therefore, I share my wisdom and experience to anyone who asks of it. Through that I have built a reputation that I adore. People know my name and that feels great.

There are some down sides to this. There is an awful large amount of pressure to stay on top of my course material. This alone makes me rather anxious. I feel almost as if I lose my smarts, no one will care about me. There is a push to be perfect; one which I may or may not be able to upkeep.

Part of me does not want to care THIS much about school and my grades. I am happy-go-lucky guy by nature. I care more about relationships (social interaction) than I do about how well I do in school. However, with that said, there is still that self-requirement for me to achieve high marks. Unfortunately, it is all too easy to ignore people to keep these standards at the level I has thus far held them at. It is this key element that causes the most conflict in my days.

Although, I think I got it down. I have decided I am a nice guy that likes to help. Sometimes I come on too heavy and stick my nose in business that I do not belong in but it is based in good intentions. I am not perfect but I want to be. I realize that is an unachievable goal. I also know that school is temporary and people have the potential to be forever (they are certainly a lot more long lived than test marks).

Love each other!


- Jeffrey

We Are Not All Made To Love

*WARNING: this blog contains emotions*

Why does boredom do this to be?
The internet is my worse enemy.
Always ending up in the completely wrong place.
I hate how I think it is you who said "You are too needy".
           (I especially dislike that I know that it is true)
Books don't contain me enough anymore.
I am falling back into a regime of a routine.
Stupid red-speckled dots on my eyelids.
Spending way too much time waiting for something to happen
I hate how I can write what I need to do
            but still feel powerless to make the change.
What in my heart does not translate to my actions.
My behaviour feels inconsistent, random and deranged.
I want to be in love but I am afraid to feel.
Music sounds like noise to me;
            what happened to its sweet poetry?

I am okay but I feel like I ought to admit that I am not. Does that make sense to anyone but myself? I feel like I have a great life but I am failing to appreciate it. One minutes I am giddy, the next I feel strung out. I need human interaction but I am afraid to give up my precious free time.

I am sitting on the tricycle of life and I need a push.

Who still loves me?